


Blood Of The Knight

by Imoshen



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2019 [38]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, Facials, M/M, Mention of Bondage, Mention of spanking, Murder, Serial Killer Sam, a hellhound named John, demon blood sam, mention of spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 04:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19900108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imoshen/pseuds/Imoshen
Summary: On Earth, Sam is considered a serial killer. In Hell, he's the boy who drinks demon blood. With Nick and Lucifer, he's their willing plaything.





	Blood Of The Knight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for:  
> SPN Kink Bingo for the square Facials on my second Card  
> SPN Heaven and Hell Bingo for the square Demon Blood!Sam on my Card  
> SPN Sam Winchester Bingo for the square Serial Killer!Sam on my Card  
> SPN Lucifer Bingo for the square Dirty Talk on my Card.
> 
> PLEASE NOTE, this fic includes BOTH murder, though it's not too graphic, AND Sam drinking blood. If either of those squicks or triggers you, TURN. BACK. NOW. This is your warning, do not come running to me complaining after the fact.
> 
> Also please note that the scene between Nick, Lucifer and Sam is anything but safe and sane, but it is consensual.
> 
> The poem Sam writes on the wall as his calling card is a translation of a part of Dante's "Inferno", the inscription oft the Gates of Hell, and was taken from the wikipedia quotes page.

Once-bright eyes turn dull and lifeless as he watches, life fleeing from the body in his grasp as the man bleeds out from the wound that was once his throat.

Sam Winchester smiles as he walks up to the body and dips his fingertips into the pooling blood to draw his sigil on the man’s chest. He chuckles as the soul screams and writhes as it’s dragged downwards by glowing red tendrils.

One more for the rack.

Dipping his fingers into cooling blood once more, Sam turns to the wall behind the victim and writes the quote from Dante’s _Inferno_ he always leaves behind with his kills. Around victim number three it earned him the nickname _The Dante Ripper_ , and he laughed himself silly the first time he heard it.

_'I am the way into the city of woe._  
_I am the way to a forsaken people._  
_I am the way into eternal sorrow._  
_Sacred justice moved my architect._  
_I was raised here by divine omnipotence, primordial love and ultimate intellect_  
_Only those elements time cannot wear are beyond me,_  
_and beyond time I stand._  
_Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here.'_

Sam doesn’t bother cleaning up either himself or the crime scene. It’s not as if any sort of law enforcement stands a chance at catching him, anyways. Even if they did, they couldn’t hold him, not even should a hunter help them. Sam is no demon, and no demon traps will work on him.

John inches forward, his large muzzle twitching as he scents the pool of blood. Sam whistles sharply and the hellhound glances up at him, his burning red eyes mournful. Sam snorts and rubs his ears. “You’ll get a decent dinner back downstairs,” he promises the hound. John gives a soft growl, tail wagging happily, and he pushes his large hand into Sam’s hand for more. Sam laughs and pats him one last time before whistling for the rest of his pack. Five hellhounds at his heels and sirens already wailing in the distance and coming closer by the second, he turns and walks out of the house, leaving a trail of bloody shoe and paw prints that suddenly disappear halfway down the drive.

Hell, these days, is a curious mishmash of what it was like before Crowley took over (at least according to everything Sam ever heard from the old demons) and the endless, faceless corridors and bureaucracy Crowley made of the place. There are endless, faceless hallways, but there’s also wide plains of burnt ground or sheets of ice, and vast chambers of black rock and nothingness, permeated by the tortured screams of damned souls.

Sam wanders those corridors with his hellhounds in tow. They know to return to their kennel upon returning to Hell, but Sam promised treats and spends some time with them, playing and letting them run wild on one of the sheets of ice. Their claws are built for rending and tearing and find easy purchase in the ice, and Sam loves watching them run and play.

By the time the dogs are fed and taken care of, Sam can feel a familiar nervousness growing inside. It’s been almost a week since he last tasted the metallic, slightly sulfuric liquid his powers depend on, and while he hates to admit it, it’s an addiction and he needs a fix. Taking a deep breath to try and settle himself, Sam turns down another corridor.

Lucifer looks up from the ancient scroll he was studying at the knock on his door. There are only a handful of people who dare interrupt him when his door is closed, and he has no idea why any of them would show up now. “Come in.”

It is a surprise to see Sam step through the door and close it behind him, but only until Lucifer takes in the almost invisible tremor in the man’s hands and the slightly jerky movements of his body as he sketches a deep bow. Ah, yes.

“Hello, Sam.”

“Lucifer,” Sam answers, and his voice is tightly controlled. More signs Lucifer is familiar with by now, but he wasn’t expecting Sam to come to him on his own. Their hunter is learning. “I need…”

Lucifer nods, letting the scroll roll up again as he sets it aside for now. “I can see that,” he agrees with a slow smile. “Need a little… boost, do we, Sammy?”

He watches as Sam’s pulse beats faster at his throat, his cheeks flush and his lips part a little, and allows his smile to deepen. It takes a heartbeat to send a thought to his Consort, let him know he is needed, and then Lucifer beckons Sam closer with one hand, clearing his huge desk with the other.

“Come here then… we’ll sort you out in a minute, Sammy.”

The hunter comes and sits in front of Lucifer’s desk, and now the tremor is obvious even to someone who doesn’t know to look. Lucifer smirks inwardly. He has just finished stacking all the scrolls on a snapped-up shelf when the door opens again to admit his Consort, and Sam is out of his chair before the door is closed again, bowing just as deeply as he did before.

Hell learned the consequences of disrespecting Lucifer’s Chosen Vessel and Consort the hard way.

Nick takes in Lucifer, the cleared desk, and Sam before a smirk pulls at his mouth. “Ah, I see,” he purrs, walking up to Lucifer to greet him with a kiss. “Want to have a little fun with it, Lucifer?”

Lucifer smirks back. “You know me so well,” he purrs, wrapping an arm around his Consort as he watches Sam straighten and look at them with eyes speaking of need and another kind of hunger. “And I don’t think our hunter disagrees, no, Sam?”

A mute shake of his head, Sam breathing harder now with the source of his addiction so close. Nick laughs and steps out of Lucifer’s loose embrace, perching on the edge of his desk. The blade appearing in his hand with a quick move was a gift from Lucifer and is so sharp Nick barely needs to apply pressure as he makes a cut along his forearm. Blood immediately beads on pale skin, dark red and shining in the firelight, and Sam makes a high noise that speaks of desperation.

Nick waits just long enough for the first drop to bead and run down his arm before he nods at Sam. “Drink,” he invites roughly, and Sam hits his knees so fast it has to hurt when bone connects hard with stone flooring. He doesn’t grasp Nick’s arm, instead digging his fingers into his own thighs, but his mouth seals over the cut as he starts to drink eagerly. Nick moans softly, tilting his head back.

Regular demon blood, even from a powerful demon like Azazel or Ruby, packs a lot less of a punch than the blood of the only Knight of Hell, and Lucifer knows Sam will be drunk on it within a few mouthfuls. He’ll also be aroused and needy.

Nick’s free hand comes up to tangle in Sam’s hair, then grip it tight to pull Sam’s head back from his arm. “Enough, Sam.”

Lucifer groans softly at the sight of Nick’s blood smeared over Sam’s mouth, both of them watching as he licks it off with neat little swipes of his tongue. His eyes are a darker shade of brown-green now, almost glowing from within. Paired with his flushed cheeks and the position on his knees, he looks like a wet dream, and Lucifer reaches out lazily to run his fingers over the cut on Nick’s arm, Grace tingling at his fingertips and healing the wound. “Go ahead,” he hums.

Nick grins and pulls on Sam’s hair again, guiding his head down lower. “No hands,” he orders, relaxing his grip a little when Sam makes a hungry little noise and starts tugging his belt open with his teeth.

“Going to have him suck you as a starter, my Knight?” Lucifer purrs, watching Sam work on the buttons of Nick’s black jeans with a smirk.

Nick grins, nodding. “I saw you clear the desk,” he teases, gasping a little as Sam pulls his jeans open with careful teeth and licks over his hardening dick. “What are you planning for us, Lucifer?”

“Oh, just the usual,” the Devil hums, reaching out to tug Nick’s jeans down far enough for Sam to actually be able to free his Consort’s dick. Sam makes a grateful sound before he slides his over the freed cock, drawing a groan from Nick. “I thought we’d lie him down over it, ass up and tie him to the legs… it’s the right height to have perfect access to his hole and his mouth for a little spit roasting.”

Sam moans around Nick’s cock, clearly happy with the idea. Lucifer laughs. “He’s such a needy little thing when he’s all drunk on you, Nick.”

Nick laughs too, a little breathless now as Sam licks and sucks on his cock, coaxing him to full hardness. “He is… _fuck_ , do that again.”

Lucifer smirks and watches Sam bob his head. He’s making a sloppy job out of it, but that’s fine, they all like that. “Want to be covered in our come, Sammy?”

Another hungry moan, Sam’s eyes flicking up to Lucifer. The Devil’s smirk widens. “Gonna cum on his face then, Nick?”

Nick nods, rocking his hips into Sam’s mouth a little as he enjoys the hot, wet mouth and tongue working him. When he knows he’s close, he pulls Sam off his cock by the hair again, drawing a hungry noise from their hunter. Sam watches as Nick wraps his free hand around his spit-slick cock and starts jacking himself fast and harsh. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back further in Nick’s grip, and Lucifer groans, watching him.

Nick comes with a harsh groan, spilling on Sam’s face in thick white ropes, and Sam and Lucifer both moan, Sam flicking out his tongue to catch some of the droplets around his mouth.

“Beautiful,” Lucifer praises, standing up as his Consort catches his breath. Sam slowly opens his eyes a little, appearing just a little dazed. His cock is a visible bulge in his pants, and Lucifer smirks. “Let’s tie you up and have our wicked way with you, Sammy.”

Sam purrs as he’s guided to his feet and to Lucifer’s desk. Lucifer strips him with a touch of Grace and guides him onto the smooth wood, and he can’t resist slapping one firm cheek. Sam whines and shivers, and Lucifer laughs. “Want to have your pretty little ass turned pink, Sammy?”

Nick, recovered from his orgasm, walks up on the other side of Lucifer’s desk with a handful of rope. “We’ll have fun tonight, I take it,” he comments with a grin.

Lucifer laughs and nods.

On Earth, Sam may be considered a dangerous serial killer, and in Hell, he might be considered the hybrid, the boy who drinks demon blood. When he’s with Lucifer and Nick like this, though? He’s theirs, and Lucifer intends to make damn sure Sam remembers that until the next time he comes to them for this.

Pink ass and cum-drenched face included.


End file.
